


Furor Amoris

by rosenrotblutblume



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied Love Triangle, Love/Hate, Non-Explicit Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosenrotblutblume/pseuds/rosenrotblutblume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furor Amoris: The fever of love. A sickness that clouds our judgement and our decisions. We are not ourselves when in love with another. </p><p>"All of this filthy skin covering my most basic self; tear it apart. Crawl under it and turn me inside out. And see me for who I am. Kiss my wounds and my claws tainted with blood. Clean my tears away and piece by piece, wrench this hell out of me."</p><p>A series of drabbles and headcanons about the relationship between Morgan and Carol. Sorry not sorry for my obsession in these two. Corgan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raging Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol's thoughts on Morgan.

She didn't hate him.

That was the problem.

She had tried and failed to hate him. In Alexandria; out there; here in the Kingdom. It didn't work for some reason. Hate started with rage, and she was furious towards him 90 percent of the time. And yet there was something about him that made things so complicated; something in his eyes that made her lower the gun every time she pointed it at his face.

She should've hated him for saving her. Instead, she found herself growing fond of him and yearning his presence from time to time. It was frustrating.

She had saved him once as well. Without asking, she had protected him from Rick and Alexandria finding out the truth. He had questioned her about it and she'd evaded him. Maybe because she didn't know why either. She was very close to finding out, though. And the answer only made her more angry.

But Morgan, he was repaying that one depth. Nothing else. He didn't care for her, and if he did, he was stupid. She had threatened to kill him more than once. A smart man would've responded the same way. Or at least kept as far away from her as possible.

When he first appeared in Alexandria he had intrigued her. And when he'd read her like an open book she'd known, instantly, that he wasn't the soft soil she had judged him as at first. He was a cave; dark inside and full of secret passages. And she'd done her best to shed some light in them, to find out what was hiding underneath. She had never asked him personally but she knew where he came from; what he'd gone through; what he'd done and been forced to do.

He'd had a child like hers. Little boy, too good for this world. Too weak to pull the trigger and defend himself. He had watched him die just like her. He had seen the monster in a person he once used to love. He had lost it like her. Lost his will to live. He had come back from it.

And now he wanted her to do the same. Would she dare defy him? Was it even worth it?

She couldn't hate him for hoping. It was endearing; foolish but sweet. He was like a child: looking at the world with big eyes full of wonder, unaware of the danger of his ways. She was incapable of hating that. Deep inside she knew she loved it. She knew she wanted to protect that vision from ever shattering in the man's head. His hope... she wanted to defend it.

He had somehow won. She was alive. And now they were both stuck together. God knew for how long.

And her feelings for him… this compassion, this fondness, this defiance and protectiveness she felt for this man she did and didn't know…

They just kept on raging inside her. 


	2. That's a mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night spent reading Les Miserables.

They'd first transformed into begrudging friends. Natural consequence of being stuck with someone you had to constantly take care of. And then things started to change between them. She had shut herself off for a very long time, and now her walls were crumbling, revealing who she really was underneath all the violence and fortitude.

It was sort of mesmerizing to get to know her better. She was softer than he had expected. Motherly; sweet; beautiful. She sort of reminded him of his wife, though they were nothing alike. Maybe it was just the situation. Him taking care of her, like he'd taken care of Jenny in the last days of her life. She sometimes brought back those memories with such vividness he would have to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from crying.

He now read to her every night and stayed with her until he was sure she was in deep sleep. She had trouble falling asleep. Even when accompanied, sleep seemed to terrify her. That was something he knew very well. Sleep was risky when survival was the priority and dark dreams waited on the other side. But she was tired, and tiredness was something even she couldn't fight. Especially with the painkillers the doctors at the Kingdom insisted on giving her.

Les Miserables was a sad story, but that didn't make it less beautiful. In stories like this there was always hope at the end. She had liked the first chapters when he started reading them to her. Seemed to hit a soft spot inside her.

"Have you read the book before?" She asked him one night.

"Yes."

"What happens to Cosette?"

"You'll see."

"I don't want you to read me the whole story. It has too many descriptions." Morgan smiled at that. Carol swallowed and turned in the bed, her eyes fluttering shut in that way children's did when they couldn't fight sleepiness anymore. He closed to book and set it aside.

"Well… Valjean fakes his own death to escape Toulon and goes after Cosette, who is being mistreated by the Thernardier, and he takes her with him. Cosette meets a revolutionary young man, Marius, and he falls in love with her."

"And they live happily ever after?"

"In a way."

"Hmmm…"

"The story is good. I'll read it to you." She smiled softly and her hand patted the side of the bed. He hesitated for a second, but ended up giving in, settling next to her. They lied there in silence, her hand on his chest and her eyes closed. He turned to look at her. She looked peaceful. He liked that.

"Fantine dies so that her daughter can live. That's a mother."

"Yes." Her breathing started to slow down. She was falling asleep. He wondered whether she would dream of her Sophia. Maybe she'd dream her as Cosette. Growing beautiful and strong while she was the one lying meters underground.

In stories like this there was always hope at the end.

Real life wasn't that generous.


	3. If stares could kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A PTSD attack.

He knew something was wrong from the first moment he came into the room. She had been trembling for no reason; seemingly unable to focus on what he said or did. He'd wondered what was going on but decided to brush it aside.

Big mistake.

"Watch it, asshole!" She hissed as the side of his hand slightly touched the bullet wound.

"I didn't do anything."

"You've done plenty, you jerk." Tell me something new, he thought. The amount of times she had insulted him by now had practically made him invulnerable.

"I'm sorry." He exhaled and kept on bandaging her leg. She was still looking at him. God, if stares could kill… "You're in a really bad mood today."

"My leg hurts like hell, I can't walk and I'm stuck in this shit-hole with you when I should be dead!" Her voice broke violently and she hid her face in her hands. Morgan's hands stopped and his eyes moved up towards her, wide like plates. He held his breath as he saw her sobbing so hard her entire body shook. Her breathing started to hitch, as if she was choking. It was a panic attack.

He'd had them too back in his worst days. One minute everything was fine and then the next the entire world became a blur and he couldn't breathe anymore.

"Carol… look at me." He moved, slowly, making sure she could see where his hands were going, and grabbed her shoulders. "You can get through this. Breathe." She started to hyperventilate and in her fearful expression something turned violent. Her hands clawed onto his forearms and she threw herself against him. Morgan's head hit the wood of the floor violently. He grabbed Carol's shoulders tighter and tried to push her off him, but she was using her entire body to overpower him and he didn't want to hurt her. As she thrust her head forward he ducked and screamed when her teeth dug into his collarbone so hard he was sure she ripped a chunk of it.

He pushed her face away from him and immobilized her against the floor. Her teeth were filled with blood and he felt it himself as it started to spread down his shoulder. One of her hands reached his face, scratching his left cheek. He held it high over her head, watching her growl and scream underneath him. He should've handled the situation differently, but she would just hurt herself if she kept on moving. Her wounds were still fresh and if they opened she could lose a lot of blood. So he held her down while she wriggled violently in his grasp, her feet kicking, her upper body rising and falling in an effort to push him off her.

Finally, she got tired. Her head fell against the wood, her breathing normalizing, crying in silence.

His hands loosened around her wrists and he pulled himself off her. He caught a reflection of himself in the mirror as he got up. His sleeves were torn with scratches and his cheek was bleeding. His shirt was red with blood on the upper left corner, very close to his throat. She had failed to reach her objective. He knew she had aimed towards his jugular.  
Had she been successful, he'd be choking in his own blood.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" He heard her whimper. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to ignore the pain coursing through his shoulder.

"PTSD."

He crouched on the floor, taking her in his arms. There was no fight left in her; her eyes were looking at nothing. She wasn't here anymore. As he pulled her weight from the ground the pain coursed through his left arm like fire. He walked her to the bed, laid her down and went back to patch her up. He cleaned the blood from the corners of her mouth, and the sweat of her forehead, and the tears in her cheeks.

When she closed her eyes and fell asleep, exhausted by what just had happened to her, he got up from the bed, walked to his own room, took off his shirt and started bandaging his own shoulder.

Two hours later, when he walked into her room bringing her food, he found her huddled in a fetal position. She looked up towards him.

"I'm sorry." Morgan swallowed hard. He walked towards the night-table, set the plate on it, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I should've reacted better. Won't happen again, ok?" She shook her head violently and pursed her lips. He sighed and put an arm around her shoulders. "Shhh… no need to cry. Nothing happened. It's all good."

She moved towards him and he jumped in alert, but as she nestled her head against his chest his fight-reflexes went mute. He held her close and she snuggled against him.

Two or three hours must've passed that way; in total stillness.


	4. Your fair maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Ezekiel about Carol and Shiva.

He had to tell Ezekiel eventually. They went on a couple runs together, as payment for his majesty letting them stay at the Kingdom, and the man had wondered about the bandage one day. Carol's bite on his shoulder could be confused with a walker's and he didn't want the people to get scared. The king had laughed as if his story was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. He didn't even seem a bit apprehensive by the fact that Carol had involuntary attempted to kill a man she knew in a place full of people she didn't know. Then again, considering he lived with a giant siberian tiger…

"Back when the world wasn't crazy I was a zookeeper. I was there when Shiva was born, held her in my hands when she was the size of a kitten. One day she fell out of her exhibit down into the deep moat that protected her from the patrons. She ripped her leg open on the way down. It was really bad, she was going to bleed out. The vets weren't going to get there in time and I had to do something, so I jumped into the moat to help her. I got my shirt tied around her leg and pressed hard. Poor thing thought I was the cause of all her pain. She slashed me across the gut…" He lifted his shirt and Morgan saw the three claws branded on his belly. They were huge. "When you work with wild animals, you know the risk of approaching them if they are feral. This was my fault as much as it was hers but… I saved her life. And in the end I lived as well… and after that she never so much as showed a tooth in my direction… it was like she was sorry." There was a long silence in which Morgan just looked at Ezekiel. "Feral creatures are just animals in pain. That's all. They do not mean to harm you, it's an instinct of self-preservation." They walked across the empty yard until they reached the stairs and sat on them. It was late at night in the Kingdom and most people were already sleeping. "Most don't have the patience or guts to deal with bites and punches, but you do. And I admire that."

"I don't know I would've jumped into a pit with a maddened tiger."

"No, you wouldn't have. No one is braver than the King." Zeke attempted to put a hand on his left shoulder and he instantly moved out of range, hearing him laugh. "How many times has she tried to kill you already? Six? Twelve?"

"Two." He corrected him.

"I heard it was four."

"Four times she threatened me, two times she meant it, and the second doesn't count." Zeke raised one eyebrow.

"Bro…"

"She's complicated." The king snorted and shook his head.

"Takes real guts to not stay away from that situation. But I guess you have your reasons."

"Someone did the same for me once." Eastman. He had told Carol about him and she'd listened intently, watching him with a tender smile on her lips.

"Wow." The sound of soft paws walking across the yard alerted both men that they had company. Shiva came walking in all her majesty; her orange fur and black stripes hitting the light of the moon. She was a gorgeous creature, though still a little scary. Morgan wasn't as used to her as the rest of people in here. The tigress purred against Ezekiel's leg and raised her yellow eyes at Morgan, watching him closely. "I like her a lot. Feisty thing that she is, always wanting to murder me every time I make a bad joke."

"Who are we talking about?" Morgan asked, not sure if he was referring to Carol or his pet. Ezekiel laughed.

"Carol. Your fair maiden. Cause lately she's the only thing on your mind." His brows knitted together at that. Of course she was the only thing on his mind nowadays; he had left everything behind to go after her, he had killed for her and now he was taking care of her. What else was he supposed to focus on? Rick working things out with his community a hundred miles away? "I've seen the way you treat her. Are you sure you want her to leave?"

That dreaded subject once more.

"She loves her people. Alexandria is her home."

Carol had made it very clear from the moment they came here that she didn't plan to stay very long. Just until her wounds healed and she could go. Back then Morgan had planned to do the same, but now his relationship with Ezekiel and Richard was growing; and the people seemed to like him, more than the people in Alexandria; and he felt that somehow he belonged here more than anywhere else.

He couldn't exactly pinpoint what was different about this place. Maybe the King himself; maybe the fact that he hadn't walked in on him savagely murdering a man. Anyhow, this was the place Eastman had imagined they would come to. Not Alexandria.

And if he decided to stay here, Carol wouldn't stay with him. She belonged in the Safe-Zone, with the family she had created and helped to protect. He wasn't part of that family.

"I will miss you if you go, my friend." Ezekiel said, reading his thoughts as usual. "I like talking to you. You never talk much, but you listen. That being said you should go with her… I don't think I've ever met two people more annoyed and in love with each other as you two."

"We are not in love." Morgan answered, confused. Ezekiel threw him a look.

"Don't lie to the old man. These eyes have seen life."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Morgan got up abruptly. Shiva, sitting next to her master, showed him her teeth, but Ezekiel put a hand on her back, calming her.

"It's getting late, I should go back." Morgan said. The King smiled gently at that.

"Your fair maiden will be asleep by now."

"Doubt it. She's got insomnia."

"Like most of us."

As he came into the place he shared with Carol he passed by her room and found the door open and the lights still on. She was on the bed, reading Les Miserables. Her eyes turned to him and she smiled.

"Where were you?" she asked in a scolding manner.

"With Ezekiel and his girl."

"He's got a girl I didn't know about?"

"I meant Shiva." She giggled at that and patted the empty side of the bed, calling him in. He sighed and rested his staff against the doorframe before coming in.

"Shoes off, mister."

"Yes ma'am." He lay down next to her as she changed the page. "In which part are you?"

"Eponine's death." she said, softly, concentrating more on what was written on the pages than on him. After a few seconds she turned her sight away from the book. "Come here, little Duane, I'll read to you until you're asleep." He smiled at that. He'd used that phrase with her too, only with her girl's name. It was painful, but maybe when they said it to each other it didn't hurt that much. He cradled his head in her stomach as she started reading out loud, one of her hands brushing his temple gently:

_"She let her head fall back upon Marius' knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless; but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes in which the gloomy deepness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness on which already seemed to come from another world:_

_"And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Les Miserables doesn't belong to me, neither does Walking Dead. I took Ezekiel's speech right out of the comic aswell.


	5. Here for each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare.

**Here for each other**

Her leg and arm throbbed like they were on fire, hindering her sleep. She couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. Sooner or later she always collapsed from exhaustion, and woke up two or three hours later crying, or completely lost in her surroundings. The doctors of the Kingdom had advised her not to cut off the painkillers but she'd done it regardless. She would take this pain and make it her own. It was sort of welcoming to feel something again.

Almost six weeks had passed since they had arrived at the Kingdom. She still didn't know what on earth she was doing, being alive and weaker than ever. Maybe this was a sign from that god she had stopped believing in, telling her to fuck off. That death was way too gentle a fate for a sinner like her.

Morgan would say all of this was happening for a reason. That this wasn't her time. As if he had some supernatural knowledge of the creator's plan. She used to roll her eyes at him whenever he came up with stupidities like that.

He was lying next to her, flinching in his sleep. He was more tired than her today. Zeke had worn him out with his training.

She liked to watch both men train. Zeke had promised her he would teach her some moves as soon as she got on her feet again. She wondered whether she would ever be as good as Morgan or Michonne. Her skills weren't exactly one on one combat unless they involved a knife and sneaking around her prey, which she couldn't do with trained martial artists. Still that didn't mean she couldn't learn. She'd learned an awful lot since it all started.

Morgan spasmed violently in his sleep and out of impulse she grabbed his shoulder. He woke up and for a minute looked more lost than she had ever seen him.

"You ok?" He looked at her, his eyes running up and down her face in a way that made her belly tighten. After a couple seconds he exhaled.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" She shook her head.

"You were having a nightmare."

"Hmm…" he nodded. "I haven't had them in a long time."

"So, why now?" He remained silent and she instantly knew he was keeping something from her. She waited for answers in silence, but he just shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, Carol. I'll deal with it on my own."

_On your own, huh?_

When it came to their friendship everything seemed to revolve around her. Her problems, her traumas… him dealing with his own demons after having just killed a man for her was something he kept so concealed it pissed her off. They were friends now. Close friends. Circumstances had pulled them together and now she cared for him. If he was having difficulties, she wanted to know. She wanted to help him if she could.

"You can tell me, you know? We're here for each other." He smiled at that, as if hearing it made him genuinely happy. There was a brief moment of silence and he finally made up his mind.

"It's no big deal. I just dreamt that you died."

"Was that really a nightmare?" She asked sarcastic and he snickered a little bit. He swallowed and looked up at the sealing.

"Back at the farm… with that man that shot you. I dreamt I got so mad that I…" He exhaled again. And that was it. He didn't say another word. The wheels turned inside her head as she tried to figure out what exactly Morgan would've done to that man had he arrived too late. Torture him? Punch him to death? Set him on fire? Let the walkers eat him alive? Disembowel him?

She flinched and moved a little closer to him. As if in answer, he raised his arm and passed it under her head, holding her against him.


	6. Never Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two resolutions and a pact of trust.

**Never hurts**

The edge of the blade turned around his finger, almost cutting it. He didn't seem to care, mesmerized as he was, admiring the exquisite work of the blacksmith. Carol's own eyes were taken by the sight. She didn't think such polished work existed in the post-apocalypse.

"One of our best works. Almost rivals mine." The leader of the Kingdom commented, unsheathing his shikomizue and letting the light impact on the gorgeous blade. "Of course, there's nothing like this baby in the whole planet anymore." The woman rolled her eyes. Ezekiel was way too arrogant for her liking sometimes. Though, at least he accepted that he was.

"I know a woman whose katana could cut you in half." she said before she could stop herself.

"Carol…" Morgan warned. Ezekiel's booming laugh resonated across the house.

"I enjoy you, fair maiden. You're still as irreverent as you were when I first met you."

"First time you met me you almost threw your kitten at me." His giant, orange kitten with black stripes across her back. She still trembled a little at the sight of it.

"How much will it cost me?" Morgan asked the King, holding the spear-head up. Carol threw him a sideways glance.

"A few more runs with my people to scavenge the towns nearby. Negan's always watching, so my guys will have to sneak through the forest. It's never safe. You're one of the best fighters I've seen." Morgan nodded as if it was no big deal and something in the back of her head stung. The Saviors and the Kingdom weren't particularly fond of each other. Just before they got here, Negan's men had killed one of Ezekiel's entire squads. Was her friend really going to go out there, putting himself at risk, for a stupid spear-head?

"We should negotiate what 'a few more runs' means then." She said, accommodating better in her chair. The King and Morgan turned to look at her; one intrigued and the other surprised.

"The fair maiden fears for her knight's safety?" Zeke asked in an amused tone. She glared at him and he got uncomfortable. Out of all the people she'd met here, Zeke was the person who got the most nervous whenever she got under his skin. Made her wonder if his calm demeanor wasn't just a façade that hid deep insecurities. "I don't ask for much, my friend. You are guests at my Kingdom. And those spear-heads have never been cheap."

"Morgan's services aren't cheap either. How many warriors with his skills do you have in your power? How many deaths have been prevented by him already?" Zeke weighed her words, scratching his chin in deep thought. He was a good man, and fair. He knew she was speaking the truth.

"There are two ways of arguing with women and neither one works." He said, giving Morgan a knowing look. He finally sighed, defeated. "Two more runs."

"Sounds fair." She turned her gaze towards Morgan with a victorious smile. The man was still a little stunned at the fact that she'd just advocated in his behalf. If he only knew how many times she had done that already, with Tara, Rosita, Eugene...

She preferred not to think of that.

"Can I ask one more thing of you?" Zeke raised an eyebrow at the other man's question. Morgan pointed his head towards Carol. "This lady here likes knives. I'd ask your blacksmiths to make a long one for her."

It was Carol's turn to be taken aback. She didn't show it, though.

"A tanto?" Zeke questioned, a sly smile that could mean all kinds of things appearing on his lips.

The woman turned towards her friend.

"I never asked for…"

"It's a gift." Morgan interrupted her. "For when you get better." He turned to the King again. "How much?"

"That one gift is on me." Zeke remarked, winking at Carol. "Maybe I'll even have one of my guys teach you the basics of one-on-one combat."

The basics… like she needed to learn basic one-on-one combat. She'd almost kicked Morgan's ass. Twice. Keyword there was almost.

"I can handle my own with a knife."

"This will be no ordinary knife, fair maiden. A tanto is an ancient japanese weapon. A martial arts weapon." The woman's eyes widened. She threw a sideways look at Morgan, who nodded in approval. "With a tanto and some training you can become the deadliest woman alive. Maybe even deadlier than that friend with the katana you talk so much about."

The deadliest woman alive. Never weak again. Never taken by surprise. Capable of killing anyone. She liked and dreaded the idea at the same time.

"Would you like to learn?" Morgan asked. She turned to look at him. _You know what I'm capable of. Do you really trust me that much?_ There wasn't a single hint of doubt in her friend's eyes. And that in itself terrified her.

"Never hurts." She muttered, and the King and Morgan flashed her charming smiles. They were more excited about this than herself, she realized.

It was good to be able to walk again without vibrating pain running across her leg every time she took a step. She still wasn't able to run or squat or do much exertion, but a couple more days would do. She'd miss Morgan carrying her around bridal style, though. Those had been the only times they'd had an excuse for this nonsensical physical proximity they now shared. Now that she could move on her own and fend for herself they weren't justified anymore.

She knew it wouldn't change. They would still share their nights lying side by side in a bed waking the other up when he or she was having a nightmare. They would still find ways to bump shoulders or knees or hands. He'd still find excuses to take care of her and she'd still find excuses to be mad at him. They'd still read to each other every night before going to sleep. They had finished Les Miserables by now. But Moby Dick looked like a good prospect. At this pace they could become english majors. Not that that mattered in this sort of world anymore.

There had never been a good pretext for this proximity, not even when they hated each other. It was just natural. Two polar opposites attracting each other like a magnet.

Feelings like these were unavoidable. They were harmless; or at least that's what she told herself. She preferred to push every interaction they had to the back of her head and just not think about it much.

"You know that if I get trained and then try to kill you again I won't fail, right?" She commented as they made their way through the place filled with people running here and there doing their chores.

"How many more times can I escape anyways?" Morgan answered, shrugging. Not many, Carol thought. They shared a careful glance.

"Why the spear-head?"

Pause. She saw the conflicted look in his eyes as he thought carefully on how he should answer her question.

"Cause I need to start again."

He didn't say the word. Killing. He meant killing. And his reluctance showed, clear as water, that he wasn't ready. She had expected his answer. Didn't make it easier to hear it. Not now that she knew him so well. It had been easy for him once; when he was feral and damaged like her. But now that his wounds had healed it would become ten times harder. Like the time he'd been forced to kill for her. For every time you took a human life away, one of those recently healed wounds opened again.

She wondered about herself. How she would fare when she was out there again confronted with the choice of killing. It would happen eventually. Sooner rather than later, for a war was coming. Her wounds hadn't healed completely; she was still bleeding from the inside; questioning herself on every turn.

But at least she knew what she was. Morgan wasn't sure.

"You don't have to." She told him. "But it… would be wise to add something pointy to that stick of yours. Never hurts."

Morgan smiled at that. Her white lie was conveniently ignored by both of them. Another excuse without real justification.


	7. But at least I can tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A training session almost ends up in an outburst of repressed feelings.

**But at least I can tell**

The weapon was too long and heavy to be a knife and too short and light to be a machete. Its paradoxical nature confused her. She was used to the rough fighting style Daryl had taught her: it was rather simple. Ezekiel's teachings made this process three times more complicated: keep your center, think before hitting, keep calm, wait for the attack, pay attention to your opponent's moves.

"You're not handling a machete, Carol, pull yourself together!" her adversary deviated her hit and she felt the edge of his fake practice-knife against her own rib. She was dead again. Great. She moved out of reach, heaving with exertion. Behind her, Ezekiel kept on shouting instructions. "Remember what I told you! The knife on the back of your hand!"

She took a deep breath and rooted herself in that very moment. She felt the weight of the knife in her hand; trusted it. This wasn't the rough survival-fight she was used to; this required skill and attention. Fluidity; grace; calmness. Ezekiel had told her he saw her as water: adaptable and fast; light enough to be molded but strong enough to pierce through stone. She could adapt into any form she wanted if she flowed in that certain direction.

She could do this.

Her adversary charged against her. Her feet found their center as both knives clashed against each other and she used her achieved equilibrium to turn around and evade the knife. Her adversary turned but it was too late. Her own practice-knife dug its edge in the soft skin of his neck.

Morgan smiled at that.

"That's my girl…" He commented, and just when Carol was about to claim victory, he pushed the fake blade she hadn't noticed against her stomach. "We both lose. More attention next time." Morgan wasn't water. Morgan was stone. He was strong and stable and immovable at times. Zeke usually called him a rock in the sea and she was sure he had added their relationship to that metaphor.

"Good, good. Let's call it a tie." Zeke said as they pulled apart. "I think you've met your match, Morgan. She's learned fast."

"She's a force of nature." Morgan responded, looking at her with such pride it made her blush. _Oh you sweet knucklehead,_ she thought, smiling. It was short lived, though, as she felt a sting across her leg once more. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Just this damn leg of mine." She lifted it from the ground and pressed a hand against it, softly. It usually happened when she worked it out too much. Nothing to be concerned about, but definitely not an enjoyable experience. Morgan turned to Zeke with worry. God, he had to tone it down a bit, it was nothing critical. Before she could stop him, however, he was already kneeling next to her.

"May I?" He asked. She nodded and goosebumps ran down her spine as his strong fingers ran up her knees, pressing gently against her thigh. Zeke snorted in amusement. Him and Carol shared a look of 'you know how he gets'. Morgan must've definitely been one of those overbearing parents who would put a sweater on their son if they heard him sneeze once.

They sat on the benches of what had once been the school's gym, watching as Zeke's other men trained with swords, spears, armor, knives, all types of weapons for one-on-one combat. Carol had noticed, however, that they didn't have much of a target-practice area. She and Morgan had exchanged worried glances the first time they'd noticed.

These people had ran out of ammo. They had guns, but couldn't use them. That was dangerous.

They were all great warriors, but against an armed group like the Saviors they stood no chance. And yet, in an effort to preserve his community's integrity, Zeke continued to stand against them. He'd have to find a solution quick, or Negan would grow tired of his cat and mouse chases and come at them with full force.

"You should stay here." Zeke claimed. "My people likes you; and you like them. You're good warriors, both of you. This is where you belong."

"We have a home already." Carol said.

"You do. He doesn't." The King pointed at Morgan with his head. Carol felt as the blood in her veins turned ice cold all of a sudden. She glared at Zeke in such a way that the King's expression turned fearful. "I'm sorry." He stammered. "Don't mean to make you guys uncomfortable. Just letting you know the option stands."

Morgan kept silent, looking anywhere but them. Carol got up abruptly and almost regretted it. She strapped the fake practice-knife to her hip, next to the real tanto, and extended her hand towards Morgan.

"We gotta go back. Come on." The man and the King looked at each other apologetic. As Morgan got to his feet next to her and grabbed his staff, he bowed his head at him.

"I'll see you around, my friends."

As if Zeke meant both. She knew he only meant Morgan. He was fond of her but not in the way he was fond of him. There was an unspoken understanding between both men that only made her angry. Zeke wouldn't steal Morgan away from her, or from Rick, or from the community he really belonged to.

She half dragged her friend out of the gym as quick as she could. The sun was setting; they walked in silence, her hand holding his tight, as if trying to glue them together so that he'd have no other choice but to come with her, and not stay at this stupid place full of stupid people that didn't get him as much as she did… after a moment she attempted to calm herself down, only to discover a thick cloud of fear starting to form around the idea that Morgan might not want to come back.

"I wish we had our own kitchen." She said in a completely normal tone. "I miss cooking. When we come back, the first thing I'm gonna do is cook you one of my master casseroles. You're gonna love it." The awkward tension that had settled between them after what Zeke said didn't dissolve. Morgan was smart enough to see through her cover-ups. He knew she was upset and trying to talk him out of staying. They went back to walking in silence, until he stopped and made her turn towards him, their hands still conjoined. "What is it?"

"Ezekiel's right about me. Don't you think I belong here?"

"No." She answered, a little too quick and defensive. Morgan's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Why?" She opened and closed her mouth, thinking of an answer. A storm was starting to form inside her chest and she felt a lump in her throat. He couldn't be really considering it. _Don't do this to me. Not after everything. Don't leave me alone after I've grown to appreciate you. To lo…_ she forced herself to stop.

"He just wants to steal you away because you're a good fighter." The venom in her voice was obvious even though she made a considerable effort to hide it. Pretending didn't work with Morgan, but she wasn't going to admit it. No. Admitting this to him was admitting it to herself and that was what made things hard. "Besides, Rick needs you back there."

Morgan sighed in frustration. He was aware of her hiding her true feelings from him, but he didn't bring it up. _You're not being honest, but at least I can tell._

"I'm just trying to figure out where I belong." Her hand squeezed his harder.

"You will." She assured him.

_Once you figure out that you don't belong anywhere away from me._


	8. Any less brutal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan realizes his feelings for Carol.

**Any less brutal**

It didn't take him long to realize he loved her.

He had expected it, and yet it wasn't any less brutal.

One night, amidst the stillness that used to settle between them when they had nothing left to say to each other but didn't want to be apart, he had looked into her eyes and known immediately.

No, it wasn't a crush. No, it wasn't lust.

He loved her so much it was sort of ridiculous.

He loved the ghost of her smile, and the sadness it hid underneath. The way she suffered in silence and covered her fears in layer after layer of I'm fine's. He loved her lips. Soft and perfect like a china-doll's. He loved her sweet blue eyes and how they looked at him: sometimes mad, sometimes peaceful, sometimes incredibly melancholic. He loved her cheekbones and her small, pointy nose. Every inch of her ivory, soft-looking skin. Her pronounced collarbone. Her lithe, warm body and the way it had felt when he'd carried it in his arms.

He loved the sound of her voice. When angry, when crying; her vibrating laughter, the sly hint of sarcasm in her tone. He loved being so much like her. Even though he didn't love the circumstances that had lead up to that. He loved that in such a silent way they understood each other like no one else understood them. He hadn't loved pulling the trigger, but he loved the fact that she was alive because of him. He loved the way she hate-loved him. The fact that whenever he caught her staring at him she immediately looked away or threw him a murderous glance as if he was the one doing something wrong.

He loved her. He felt it in every fiber of his body whenever she touched him; whenever she lay close to him on the bed, unaware of his raging effort to stop himself from taking her in his arms and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Whenever he thought of telling her he forced the words back down his throat. Whenever she took his hand in hers his entire being wanted to throw himself at her and hold her against him. And he smothered the supplicant voices inside him until they went mute.

He held back intentionally. He knew what to do with women; how to approach them. He was out of practice by a lot, but he could still try and be successful. Especially with someone like Carol, whose debts he had navigated. The chance was there, growing stronger every day.

Had he been the man he was before, he would've taken it. He would've found a way to sneak his hand behind her neck, stroke her unruly grey hair and pull her close to him. He would've kissed her; pushed her against a wall, taken her hands in his and pinned them on each side of her head. Kiss that lovely collarbone and relish in the sweet sound of her sighs. His hands would've ran through that white skin, hungry, wanting to tear her open so that he could squirm inside her, curl up between her lungs, next to her beating heart. For every cigarette she had smoked he would've given her ten kisses, until her lips were sore and pink. He would've made her nails claw to his back, unintentionally marking him. He would've marked her as well, deliberately, on her neck, on the inside of her thighs.

Had he been the man he was before…

But that man was gone.

The man he was now was a ghost who had loved and lost. The man he was now could not love another woman without the fear of losing her or the guilt over his dead wife overtaking him. Moreover, the man he was now could not love a woman without making her the sole reason of his existence.

There was nothing in this world he loved anymore. No wife, no son. Maybe that was what kept him sane; his lack of attachment. Some wounds healed with time, some remained open. He would not watch her die aswell. His sanity wouldn't stand it.

She had caught him staring at her, deep in thought, lost in his incessant craving for her. Her eyes were now a storm: defensive and questioning. He didn't look away; that wasn't his style. He just smiled and rejoiced in the way she averted her gaze, eternally bugged at him.

The fire couldn't be quenched now. He had expected it, from the first moment he saw her approach him. It didn't make his realization any less brutal.


	9. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go back to Alexandria

**It's time**

"One of these days I'm gonna cut Richard's throat with this tanto. You just wait and see."

"Carol…"

"I really hate him. And you too. So, so much."

"I know sweetie."

"Don't call me sweetie."

"Fine, mrs. Peletier."

"That's better." Carol's constant antagonizing of Richard and Ezekiel was hilarious to see. If in the past she'd always pretended to like people, now she always pretended to hate them all. It seemed as though she was constantly mad at the entire world. And the contrast of her grumpy behavior against the whimsy attitude of the Kingdom inhabitants was priceless. Morgan knew that deep inside she liked the King; and the people from this community; and him.

"Sit down, before you fall down." He asked and she obeyed, flinching at her tired muscles. "I have news. Zeke received a letter." She froze in place, knowing instantly what that meant.

"What did it say?"

"Paul is coming here. With Rick. Going to request troops."

"Troops?" _Yes, troops. A war is coming._ Morgan thought, anxious. Negan wasn't the small fish Rick and the Safe-Zone had judged him as at first. Negan was a freaking shark ready to turn over the entire boat. They had made a big mistake by hitting him in the back and now, unless they fought, he would eat them alive. Could they win against him? Maybe. The 50/50 chance didn't look that promising. Carol bit her lip. "How long till they're here?"

"Couple weeks. They need to avoid the Saviors." It wasn't easy with those cockroaches having outposts everywhere and watching every move the communities made. "We don't have to meet them Carol. Zeke could tell them we're on a run or something…"

"Don't be ridiculous." She interrupted. She couldn't just avoid them, they were her family. And yet she didn't feel exactly ready for this confrontation. During her time here she had gotten used to one person only. To one situation in a place full of people without much attachment to her. She had gotten used to being sincere about her brokenness. And if they came back that would all be over. She missed them all; everyday she missed Daryl and Judith and Rick and Maggie… but she had a role in that group: that of the den mother. And a broken den mother was something they didn't need to deal with. Something they didn't need to see. "It's been two months. I think it's time."

"Maybe you're not ready." As usual, he had read her exact thoughts. No, she wasn't. But what else could she do? She would have to clean off her tears and put on her mask again. And she expected it would be easy to slip back into the role of the strong, fearless woman, without Daryl or someone else wanting to peak underneath her armor.

"I'll decide that myself."

"I didn't say I would decide for you…"

"I know." She cut off the fight before it started. They had both discussed long enough about them making decisions for the other. It was a mistake they were both guilty of. "What's gonna happen to you now?" Morgan didn't look at her and she felt the vile in the back of her throat. "You won't leave me any time soon, will you?"

"Did you think I would?"

"I know you want to stay here." She was trying damn hard not to show just how much she disagreed with that choice. The subject of him staying in the Kingdom couldn't come up without her getting overly emotional. "They are our people, Morgan…"

"They are your people. And you know I don't belong there."

"Rick is your friend."

"He was. Once. But I don't know him anymore." Carol was ready to keep on going but Morgan stopped her. "Please. Let's not fight right now, let's just… we have two weeks to settle things back to where they were before all this… started. For today, I think the news are enough."

He was right. Carol looked down at her fingers nervously tapping on the table. Stability had been broken and she just now realized how nice it had been. You never appreciate something until you lose it. The entire world was falling back into its chaotic place and all the decisions and problems that had been kept in a standstill after they got to the Kingdom were now swarming around them furiously.

_The world doesn't decide, you decide. You don't get to walk away and get what you want._

"I need you there." She mumbled. "Things have been going well for a while. Your presence calms me down, you know what to watch out for... If something gets out of control, I want you to be there." It was the first time she admitted to needing him. She had needed him before, of course. For a very long time she had needed his help phisically and mentally. But she'd never openly admitted it. He was always the one with the initiative. And it made him seem a little smothering, but here she was, asking him to stay with her. It honestly shocked him.

The words came out of his mouth like an instinct; he couldn't do a thing to stop them.

"If you go, I'll go. That's the deal. For as long as you need me." He was just doing it for her, but it didn't matter. She smiled and reached for his hand across the table. Their fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The narrative point of view in this chapter is all over the place. Forgive me. First and last time this happens, I swear.


	10. The Breath of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol is confronted with the death of one of her loved ones and the pain of another.

**The breath of Life**

They had buried Glenn's body at the Hilltop. Maggie's decision.

Another one gone. Another weeping widow having lost her entire family. Another child who'd never meet his father.

Her heart had shattered into a million pieces when she'd heard. Glenn… that one ray of light amidst the darkness. He'd always been the one who helped, the one who believed in people, the one who didn't kill. He'd always escaped death by a hair; always came back against all odds.

The last good man; one in which was the breath of life.

Not this time. Never again.

"You did well to leave, Carol. Stay in the Kingdom. It's best for you."

Maggie's words shocked her, cold as stone and furious.

Her fears had come true, of Maggie's heart hardening like it should never have. Back when they'd both been taken hostage by Paula's group, Carol had tried to stop it from happening. Maggie was supposed to be someone else. She and Glenn were supposed to be the noble people. The ones who would live instead of just surviving. The ones whose child would be truly saved.

This world was cursed and broken, and if its survivors were forced to turn into monsters, they could at least prevent others from becoming the same. But goodness had its price and it was way too expensive in a world like this where nothing was right anymore.

"Maggie, you can't stay here. We need you."

"I'm never going back there. This is Glenn's home now. This is where I'll stay."

"He's dead." A lethal silence followed Carol's words and she could almost feel the stone-cold hatred emanating from the soon-to-be mother. "And I'm sorry to say that, but he's dead and we are your family."

"He was my family!" Maggie snapped. "Dad, Bethy, they were my family! They're all gone! Because of Rick! And you! And me! I should've never made the arrangement. We shouldn't have attacked them, he was right; we didn't know shit."

"Maggie…"

"I want to see him dead. I want to cover my hands in his blood, I want to see his head crushed on the floor, like I was forced to see my husband's." Maggie's fists tightened. "One day, I swear to you…" She stopped, swallowed, and looked down. Revenge wouldn't change a thing and Maggie knew it. Glenn would still be dead after they'd gotten rid of Negan. It was all for nothing.

The wickedness of mankind was great on the earth, and every intent of the thoughts of its heart was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made man. For the earth was filled with violence because of him.

Maggie turned away from Carol and kneeled in front of her husband's tombstone, and the discussion was over. Carol walked away, searching for some place where she could be alone and away from prying eyes. Rain started to fall, heavy drops of water in the cold autumn weather. She heard doors closing as she walked past the wooden shelters. Some people running for cover.

She just let the rain wash her sins away.

The world outside didn't frighten her anymore. She almost begged for the storm to come, destroy the good and the bad and the monsters it had created. She dreamed of the day when all the fountains of the great deep would burst and the floodgates of the sky would open. When the rain would fall upon the earth for forty days and forty nights, and the water would prevail fifteen cubits higher, covering mountains. All flesh that moved on the earth would perish, birds and cattle and every swarming thing that swarmed, and all of mankind.

But there would be no ark this time. None would enter it, no male or female of all flesh, no beast after its kind, no cattle, not a single creeping thing that crept. They would all drown in the flood, and the Lord would have blotted out from the face of the land every living thing that he'd ever made.

She sensed his presence behind her as she walked.

"You should stop following me." Morgan didn't answer. She turned towards him. "Before you ask… no. I'm not fine."

"That's why I'm here."

"Will I ever get rid of you?"

"One day. When you no longer need me." He came closer, put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and paid attention to his ragged breathing and the change of pace in his heartbeat. His arms covered her like a blanket and hers held onto him for dear life.

They were two. Male and female of their kind, in which was the breath of life.

And the Lord closed the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lose quotes from Genesis 6-7


	11. He was hers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment on the porch

**He was hers**

She would usually sleep much better if he was by her side. Much to her disappointment, this was no longer possible. It would've been kind of weird if they had come back to the Safe-Zone and started sharing a room or even a house. Everyone would've gotten the wrong impression. Even them for that matter.

There was something intimate growing between them.

From a start in which they didn't understand each other, to ending up sharing an unbreakable bond that they didn't want to let go of…

They weren't the same, that was the beauty behind it. They were so different; two polar opposites circling each other.

She was aware of the fact that all of her efforts to bring him back to Alexandria against Ezekiel's wishes were an attempt to claim him as hers. She had to be honest with herself, cause he wouldn't be. Not when it came to this. He was precious to her. Someone she would die for, like her family. Only he wasn't part of that family. He was exclusively hers.

Perhaps a part of him belonged to Rick as well; that one friend he was still loyal to. But deep inside she knew she was more important to him than Rick would ever be. And she liked that a lot.

He closed the book and exhaled, turning towards her. She'd barely been paying attention to what he'd been narrating, her thoughts had just wandered off to something else, despite that something being right next to her.

"Moby Dick is not your cup of tea, is it?"

"Is it yours?"

"Not really." they both smiled at that. "I read it when I was younger. But now, it all just seems so…"

"Trivial?"

"Yeah." He set the book aside. "Who the hell cares about whales anymore?"

"It would be nice to visit the sea again though."

"Maybe we could go. One day."

"You and me?"

"You and me. Alone in a boat. Hopefully we won't try to kill each other."

"We will. Trust me." Her head was resting on his shoulder, her body leaning against his. It wasn't unusual for them. What was unusual was her hand on his knee, but he didn't seem to mind. Or maybe he didn't notice. She did. And it got her thinking.

He was just a man. Not a follower, not exactly a leader. He tried his best to stand strong against a current that pushed and pulled him in every direction. She thought of the way he had made it alone in this new world; with almost no one by his side. With no family to protect and only a couple friends to lead him.

She admired him. Sometimes she didn't understand him, but amidst this ocean of people and walkers she was the one who accepted him. She didn't owe him less. Morgan had been there for her when no one else was. She was the one woman he had saved; the one woman he had killed for; the one woman he would protect with his life. She was precious to him. And that made him hers.

 


	12. Mother. Father. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation with the past

**Mother. Father. Mother.**

_Lizzie._

The soft breeze in the meadow seemed to whisper her name.

Carol tried to ignore it, but the voice was so clear… chanting like a hymn.

_Lizzie. Lizzie. Lizzie._

Sometimes, deep into the woods she could swear she heard Sophia calling her.

_Mother. Mother._

They never went away, the voices of the dead. They were a part of her now.

Morgan's arms closed around her waist, so sudden she had no time to react. He pulled her body from the ground in a single swoop and she cried out as he swirled her around.

"Stop! You're such a man-child!" He chuckled next to her ear.

"I was talking to you. Where did you go?"

Here was not here when the sea of memories hit her, and he had an ability to tell whenever she wandered off. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at him, and the playful air between them changed in a second.

"If I tell you something… about my past… will you promise not to hate me?" It took him a while to answer.

"I promise I'll try." She smiled and looked ahead. At the meadow washed by sunlight and all its treacherous beauty concealing awful memories. She looked at the flowers; the small ones with the yellow petals and their partners, the white little buttons that popped out showing their heads amidst the green sea of grass.

"Lizzie and Mika were sisters at the prison." She started.

Lizzie. Lizzie. Lizzie. All her demons unleashed from the heavy chains that kept them tied to that one lump in her throat.

Lizzie.

Mikka.

Sophia.

The breeze carried their names on purpose, reminding her of what she had done.

_Mother. Mother. Mother._

"I'm sorry this happened to you." His voice came from behind her. It drowned the voices somehow. There was no shock in his tone. No judgement in his eyes when she turned to look at him, no fear or disgust in the way he approached her. She wanted to look at herself the way he looked at her right now. With no hatred for what she was, with no resentment for what she'd done. With plain acceptance. He saw her. Not the monster, not the mother. Not the broken woman either. Simply her, whoever she was underneath all these walls. Whoever was left of this constantly consumed and reborn woman. She turned away from him and he held her softly from behind, nuzzling gently against her cheek wet with tears. "But you know... you'll learn to live with it. One day."

They swayed together to the macabre melody of their memories. Softly. The wind kept on roaring around them, chanting names of lost children; lost son and lost daughters. Duane. Sophia. Lizzie. Mikka. And their voices could be heard calling from the deep woods.

_Mother._

_Father._

_Mother._


	13. Don't kill anyone for me today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation with the enemy to ensure Carol's safety

**Don't kill anyone for me today  
**

They came in, took what they wanted, left. The Hilltop had warned Alexandria to meet Negan's expectations for the time being. Otherwise the boss would get angry, and that was the last thing any of them wanted.

When it came to her… she knew her role and how to play it. She kept her head low, her mouth shut. Eyes on her feet, not raising them towards the men who approached her as if they owned her and everything around her.

She'd had a good teacher. Ed, son of a bitch she expected would be rotting in hell.

Nevertheless submission became harder to fake with every passing day and tensions kept on rising. Two weeks ago Negan had killed Spencer out of nowhere. He'd said he'd done it for Rick; getting rid of a potential traitor as a favor for the leader. Spencer's cowardice had lead him to suggest Negan should get rid of Rick. So Carol didn't feel sorry for the stupid young boy in any way when he met his end in a brutal manner.

But then Carl had gone nuts and sneaked into one of the freaking rigs headed to the Sanctuary. Shotgun in hand, he'd killed 5 of Negan's men. And that had pissed the leader off. Why he'd let the boy live was a total mystery.

Things after that just kept on getting worse. Now the Saviors behaved in a much more hostile manner. Daryl and Dwight had engaged in more than one confrontation Rick had to break off. Daryl felt betrayed. It wasn't in his spirit to be oppressed by outsiders.

Pretending to be slaves was a heavy chain to carry.

Today, it was no different. As she loaded the carts filled with supplies outside, she kept on feeling a pair of eyes following her closely. A couple armed Saviors was close to her, laughing as they talked. One of them was checking her out, and it made her blood turn cold in her veins. For a moment, she made the mistake of looking up, into the eyes of the man ogling her, and she wished she hadn't.

He was middle aged, skinny, with a mustache, and his predatory glance reminded her of the way her husband had looked at her little girl.

"That one." She heard him whisper as she passed by them. "If she's not taken I'd like to put my hands on her." She looked towards him with an expression of disgust and he noticed. By the time she gazed down at her shoes it was too late. He was coming towards her.

"What are you looking at, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry." She took another cart in her hands and turned around, just to come face to face with him. Not yet, she couldn't give herself away yet.

"Are you now?" He asked. Her arms started to tremble. He noticed. "Let me help you with that…" She tried to fake frozenness, but as his hand came closer to her an instinctive rage overcame her and she moved out of reach violently. Some jars inside the cart went flying to the floor and shattered. The man looked from them up to her face. He took the cart from her hands forcefully and gave it to one of his friends, who was looking at the scene with a smirk. There was no other barrier between them and Carol took a step back, feeling genuinely threatened. She tried to move away but the man pushed her against the wall, blocking her way. Now she didn't know if she should start crying or stab his face out before he attempted to touch her once more. "You need to tone it down, nervous bunny. Those were our supplies you dropped. Negan will be mad if he finds out. Of course, I might keep my mouth shut if you just…"

"Leave her alone. Please." A voice behind them interrupted. They turned around and Carol sighed, a strange mix of frustration and relief overtaking her. Standing there was Morgan, as always. He had the magical ability to appear whenever she felt distressed. She didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Who are you?" The man with the mustache asked. Morgan's teeth were clenched hard, his eyes stone-cold.

"Doesn't matter."

"That's right. It doesn't." The man turned towards her again.

"I'm warning you." Morgan said, as if he hadn't gotten the hint. This time the entire group faced him, hands resting on the guns on their hips. Carol locked eyes with him and shook her head slightly, telling him to leave it alone. Of course he didn't. "You have rules. You don't take women from the communities that are already taken. Would you like me to ask him?"

This seemed to make the men uncomfortable. The mention of Negan, even if his name wasn't outtered, always seemed to keep them in check. One of them patted the mustached man on the back and told him something along the lines of 'It ain't worth it'. The man huffed, angry, and took a couple steps towards Morgan. Carol felt her own blood boil. He better not touch him, he'd regret it later.

"So is this your girlfriend? Sweet piece of ass… for a man like you."

They walked away. Carol moved away from the wall, giving the man who'd saved her yet again a reproving gaze.

"I didn't need your help."

"You never do, right? It's just crazy ole me, saving your ass every time." He took yet another cart in his arms. "You should stay away from them. Let me do this." She snorted at that. But as he slammed the cart on the floor of the truck with more force than necessary she realized he wasn't joking. He was angry.

The Saviors who had bothered her were now out of sight, but she was pretty sure that if they came back he would be ready to punch them in the face (and get killed in the process).

"So, what now? Should we pretend we're married or something? Should I hold your hand and kiss you to convince them?" She asked him trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. "Hey…" He turned towards her, she walked to him and took his hand. "They were probably just putting up a show."

"Yeah, well… I didn't like it."

Something about that made her smile like a fool. Out of instinct, she nuzzled her nose against his. He regarded her with wide eyes, uncomfortable by their proximity, but that didn't stop her. Moving even closer, she pressed her lips against his for a fraction of a second and moved out of reach before he could even react. He didn't try to kiss her back anyways.

"Thank you. But just don't kill anyone for me today. Ok?"


	14. Sailor and the Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two souls looking for comfort

**Sailor and the Tide**

Red. The entire world around him turned to red whenever she was in danger. That burst of adrenaline he associated with horrible memories made every muscle in his body twitch whenever he saw some threat approach her, ready to jump, pull the trigger or punch the living hell out of someone. No one would hurt her. Not her. He would kill every single man in this world who dare put his hands on her without her consent. He would cut them off and throw them to the fire. Two of her loved ones had died in front of him. She would not be the third one.

_I would kill for her… her… no one else. Her above everyone… her above everything…_

He rested his forehead against the cold wet wall of the shower. No, this wasn't right.

He was not the same man who had first come to Alexandria, sure of his vision and his principles. Things were more complicated in this world and he had accepted it. But that didn't mean he had to go back to who he was. He couldn't choose her over what was right. He couldn't choose her over his own principles.

_You have no principles anymore._ whispered a voice in the back of his head. _You only have her._

It was true. This world was constantly proving him wrong, making and breaking his reasons to stay alive. She had appeared out of nowhere and he had held onto her when he saw his own beliefs start to crumble. Perhaps saving her had been duty; perhaps a way to save himself from madness, either way it seemed he had miscalculated the danger when he inadvertently turned her into his reason to keep on going. This woman, this force of nature… she had washed him away like a storm, from the peaceful shore he once inhabited. Now he was drowning in the sea, drunk in salt water and need for her. He had nothing else in the entire stupid world. Not his family, not his philosophy. He only had her.

The doorbell rang in the middle of the night, as he was getting ready to go to sleep. He instantly knew who it was. She was the only person who would visit him this late, although she had never done it before. When he opened, she was leaning on the frame, wearing no coat at the start of autumn. She knew he wouldn't dare leave her out there if she was freezing. Seemed so innocent in the way she rubbed her bare arms, pretending to be a shaky, fragile rose petal.

_You cheeky flower, you._

"Did I wake you?"

"No." He answered as he let her pass. She went right towards the bedroom and once he came in he found her lying on his bed as if she was in her own house.

"Shoes off ma'am."

"Yes, mister." She kicked off her boots like nobody's business. "I was taking a walk, but Tobin's house is right around the corner."

"Was he on the porch?"

"You think I wanna find out?" He sat down on the bed, looking at her. Tobin… her ex-boyfriend, if he wasn't mistaken. He was a good man, sweet, amiable, wouldn't harm a fly… Morgan remembered the expression of heartbreak in his face the day Carol ran away; looking for reasons within himself as to what he had done wrong. He didn't know he wasn't the problem. "Don't!" Carol exclaimed as if guessing what was about to happen.

"What?"

"You're gonna start asking questions." Ha. She had read his mind.

"Don't you just hate me when I do that?" He smiled at her annoyed gaze. He knew she felt guilty for what she had done. It wasn't in her nature to be a heartbreaker.

"I hate you 80 percent of the time."

"And what about the other 20 percent?" She didn't answer. They lay in silence, side by side, looking at the sealing. "I've been thinking about what you told me. About those two girls… about the prison." Pause. "I know why you hate to mention them. Ed, Sophia, Lizzie, Mika. You've tried so hard to destroy the woman you once were. That weak woman who let herself be… stepped on… and hurt… Something bad happens and you destroy her over and over, to make sure you don't make those mistakes again. Until one day you find there are no more mirrors to destroy. There's only you, breaking, dying."

"It happened to you too?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you saved me?" He stopped before answering.

"Yes."

Something shifted in the silence that followed his words. He felt Carol's stare burning through his soul and turned towards her. Her eyes were warm. No, not just warm. Hungry. He knew a look of desire when he saw one. His entire body felt like it had just been thrown into the fire. So warm it hurt. He felt himself moving an inch closer to her. Suddenly the distance between them was gone, suddenly they were touching each other.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" She whispered in such a low tone he thought he would lose it. "Don't get any ideas. I'm just really tired."

He turned away, mortified, and the tension was gone as quickly as it came.

Out of place intrusive desire.

He couldn't really say no to her. She had trouble sleeping alone and probably hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since they left the Kingdom.

"I can stay on the couch." He answered.

"That's not how it works."

"How does it work?" She moved closer again, passing an arm across his ribs, pressing her head against his shoulder, her leg slightly entangling with his. He turned off the light at the night-table and accommodated himself to give her space across his chest. His fingers travelled through her hair, gently caressing her temple, and she sighed in satisfaction. Her breathing started to slow down after a couple minutes; before he knew it she was fast asleep, mumbling in her dreams.

He was more awake than ever, painfully aware of her warm body half on top of him. Her left breast pressing against his side, her leg further entangling itself with his, her fingers unconsciously brushing his rib, causing goosebumps. It was all too glorious; he wished he could have her like this for the rest of his life…

He was being so foolish… Even if she did want him, what guaranteed him that she wasn't just playing with his heart the same way she had played with Tobin's? He was just a warm body she used as a pillow whenever she needed comfort. He was just an appeaser of her nightmares. A friend she came looking for when she needed him.

He only had her. But she was the sea and he was a mere sailor drowning in her tide.


	15. His arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**His arms**

She woke up from a peaceful, long, dreamless sleep. Something that hadn't happened in ages. Lost in the darkness of the room, she could feel only the warmth engulfing her. She couldn't move, but it didn't scare her. This soft cocoon wrapped around her made her feel safe at last.

As the haziness started to recede, she regained consciousness of where she was and what was happening.

Morgan. This was his house, his bed.

His arms.

He was curled up around her like the shell around a snail's fragile body. Her shoulder blades were pressed against his chest, his face slightly buried in her hair. She could feel his soft breathing on her nape, and it made goosebumps crawl down her back. Her head was resting on one of his arms, his other arm wrapped around her waist in a gentle but strong grip.

He had never gotten this close to her before.

Her hand brushed against his arm and in response his grip around her got tighter. She sucked in the air as she could now feel her lower back against his stomach.

Her natural reaction should've been to jump out of that bed, out of his hold, immediately. But she didn't do it. She lay there, eyes open, not a single muscle moving, afraid to breathe a little too hard and wake him. Every nerve in her body activated to a thousand, feeling him around her. All of him. His strong arms, his breathing, his hard chest against her skinny back…

When she came into his room last night with the excuse of not crossing paths with Tobin, some very irrational part of her brain had told her this was normal between them. Nights spent sleeping in the same bed, side by side, barely touching, had become routine when they were alone at the Kingdom. She just wanted to sleep, she was tired and unable to do it by herself. Or at least that was her excuse. One of those many excuses she was so used to making in order to ignore her conflictive feelings towards him.

This was far from normal, though. Her snuggling against him wasn't normal. Him holding her like this wasn't normal. Her kissing his lips, holding his hand, yearning for his touch and his warmth like some stray dog in winter, wasn't normal.

They weren't friends. She would never let a friend touch her like this; she would never feel this way for a friend, like her entire body was on fire and wanted to stay that way; she would never want to kiss a friend senseless; navigate every inch of his strong body with her hands; support his weight on top of her; tear him apart so she could crawl under his dark skin and beat in unison with his heart.

She would never enjoy a friend's hug this much. This perfect moment of complete stillness and comfort. This moment could last forever. It should last forever. She wanted to stay here in his arms forever.

The realization hit her like a train on a high-speed railway. A giant façade of denial broke right in front of her eyes, leaving her with nothing but the naked reality of her own feelings:

_I didn't come here last night to escape Tobin, I came because I can't stand sleeping another night without him._

_I came because he always makes me feel better; because he protects me and cares for me; because having him close eases this constant pain inside me; because maybe he's the only thing keeping me sane in this insane world._

_I love him. His smile, his eyes, his voice, his touch, his stupid misconceptions, his hope, his existence._

Overwhelming didn't even come close to define what she felt right now. A faucet opened inside her releasing a storm of emotions she was utterly unable to deal with. She turned around in his embrace, waking him. He froze for a minute as he assessed their closeness and then jumped away, mortified.

"Carol, I'm sorry, I… in my sleep, I must've…"

"It's ok." she whispered, interrupting him. "I like it."


	16. No one said tigresses were easily

**No one said tigresses were easy**

Decomposing pieces of brain flew everywhere; the soil underneath his feet had become dark red and slimy. He went full psycho on the next walker approaching him, took it by the hair and slammed its head repeatedly against a tree until it was nothing more than a pulp allover his hands. Another rotten creature tried to grab his shoulder, but his spear pierced its throat before it could move another centimeter closer.

"That was just savage!" Richard cheered, next to him. "Come on!" He grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the bus. Morgan went reluctantly. He was tired, bloody and incredibly furious, he needed to keep on killing things.

He hadn't felt like this since his "clear" days. Back then it had been much worse, but now all the fury was returning. Maybe the war approaching was making him nervous, maybe his lack of sleep had disoriented him, maybe it was her playing with his mind.

He couldn't get her out of his head no matter how hard he tried. The memory of her and the way she treated him lately kept on filling it with questions and unnecessary feelings of despair. _What went wrong? Why did I even dare to go so far? Could I have prevented it? Will she drift away forever?_

What made him angry was how perfect everything had seemed before and how in less than one day it all had fallen to pieces. That morning when she woke up in his arms had been glorious. He didn't remember feeling so peaceful, so happy, in a long time. She had gone back to sleep still cuddling him, completely comfortable with their proximity, her face buried in the crook of his neck as his jaw barely rested on her forehead. The way her arms hugged him had made him believe maybe she returned his feelings. It had been three hours of beautiful intimacy until the sun came up.

And then it all had gone downhill for no good reason. The next time he saw her she did her best to avoid him in any way possible. She just scurried away whenever he was in close sight. The one time they had gotten the chance to talk, she had been cold and edgy and asked him to leave her alone after just a couple words were crossed. It was as if their entire relationship had moved three steps forward and then abruptly regressed back to level one: to those awkward tension-filled moments after their fight in the basement.

And he didn't understand it for the world. If his proximity had scared her, why hadn't she said anything in the moment? Why had she gotten even closer? If this wasn't what she wanted, why had she given him all the signals? Why had she looked for him if she wanted him away? Just, what the fuck was going on with this woman and how could he even begin to understand her?

The most annoying part was he couldn't just forget her and move on.

He had never been good at that, and she had become such an important part of his life… the last person he truly had left…

He couldn't deal with her pulling away, not after everything, after everyone he had lost. It hurt so much he just wanted it to stop. And the only way to make it stop was to go out there and put himself in danger, extreme situations, anything that kept his adrenaline pumping, his pain on a leash and the thought of her off his head.

So when Ezekiel asked for his help transporting the school buses out of the Kingdom and into the Safe-Zone for the future plan of attacking the Sanctuary, he accepted right away. Maybe he should just go to the Kingdom after the war was over. Start a new life there, away from Alexandria's memories, from Rick, from her and her mixed signals…

The first thing he saw as the gates of the Safe-Zone opened for them was her petite figure walking towards him, fuming. The mission was supposed to last only a couple hours, instead, in an effort to dodge the Savior outposts they bumped right into two giant herds of walkers they had to clear out. By the time they came back, worn out and in extreme need of sleep, they all had new duties accumulated.

"Where have you been?" She asked him directly, looking like she wanted to start a fight. He didn't want it for anything in this world. He was done, having been dragged through mud and guts for a day and a night. Having been unable to get her out of his head. He just wanted the earth to swallow him, away from her and this stupid conflict and this damned apocalypse. He tilted his head towards the buses and grunted. "Francine was on watch until 3:30 last night. She had to take your shift because you were nowhere to be found."

"One more hour on night-shift, give him a break…" The King intervened, but Carol cut him off with one stare.

"No disrespect, your majesty. But don't get involved."

"No disrespect, woman. But get off my back." Morgan snapped, and both Carol and Ezekiel turned to look at him with eyes wide as plates. His patience was officially over. He needed a bath and a few hours of sleep immediately or else something in this community would break. He passed right past her, praying she'd leave it alone for now.

"Jones!" Carol yelled so high that all the king's men turned their heads towards the commotion. She walked up to his face, her head high and intimidating as if their height difference didn't exist at all. She looked damn attractive when she was angry and it just made his entire body shoot with adrenaline. "Let's get something clear, you're not Ezekiel's man, you are our man! And if we need you here on watch duty, you got no excuses to skip it!"

"Are you kidding me?!" He screamed. For the first time in ages. For the first time in her face. It took her aback, and everyone around him. The peaceful warrior had just exploded. The silence that followed his outburst allowed him to get his mind clear for a minute. He took a deep breath and stood firm right in front of her. "We've been out there all night, stuck on the road, dealing with herds of walkers, traveling through the forest so the Saviors wouldn't spot us, just so that this plan can work. Don't get in my face over skipping damn watch-duty."

"Why are you being an asshole?"

"I'm being the asshole?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You haven't talked to me in a week. Last time I approached you, you snapped in my face for no good reason. And now isn't much different. I don't know what's going on with you, but you shouldn't take it out on me." He had instinctively gotten so close to her that their faces were just a couple centimeters apart. Neither of them backed off, they just stared at each other in utter anger. They were very capable of killing each other right now. And this primal tension rising between them just made him want to grab her by the hair, kiss her hard, rip her clothes off and take her right there in front of everyone. Incredible how all this hostility only made him crave her more.

He would never win the game with this particular woman.

"Alright you two! Don't make me bring the damn tiger out!" Ezekiel's voice came through, stopping them. Carol took a step back and walked away, and he watched her go. Even the sight of her retreating was titillating. Morgan cleaned the sweat off his brow and ignoring the people still watching in confusion, made his way back to his house. The King catched up to him, unwilling to give up. "What's going on here?"

"Beats me."

"Well, something must've happened, you two were inseparable a few months ago."

Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head. If he could only give an answer, but he was just as lost as everyone else. This woman drove him crazy.

"She's avoiding me for no damn reason." He explained. "Whenever I try to talk to her, she just explodes in my face. It's like we're back to when we first met. I thought we were over this already, you know? Guess I was wrong."

"Is that your excuse for treating a dame that way?" Ezekiel asked. He sighed. _I don't know. What's her excuse for treating me this way?_ "You were always the one to go talk to her, why is this time so different?"

"Because I'm tired of always being the one who repairs our relationship after she's literally torn it to pieces."

He'd always been the one to insist on keeping this bond. At first out of duty, then out of love. Whenever they had drifted apart, he had been the one to look for her again. He could've stayed at the Kingdom after it all happened, but he came here for her. Granted, she asked him to, but he was the one who made the decision. He was invested in this relationship to the bone. She… wavered between in and out, looking for him and then pushing him away as if he was a swing. Maybe she had never wanted this to happen. Maybe it had gotten out of hand. Maybe he was just a suffocating, controlling asshole trying to butt into her already problematic world.

All he knew was that he needed to let it go.

Ezekiel kept quiet for a bit, and it was quite welcoming. He didn't need sermons right now, he just needed to be comforted in silence.

He would go to the Kingdom after this was over. Give her space. Give himself a life.

Stop this nonsense.

"Have you stopped to think that maybe she needs you like hell now that the war is closer and she just doesn't want to admit it?" Ezekiel asked. _What does she need?_ He thought, _A platonic lover? A friend to cuddle and spend the night with? Someone to clean the dirt off her shoes? Someone who's heart she can rip off and break into a million pieces? Or maybe she doesn't know what she needs and she's just playing with the possibilities._ "Look, man, just leave your pride aside for one more day, what hurt could it do?"

"Ask that to the claw-marks on your stomach."

"Hey, I'm not dead, right?" The King shrugged. "No one said tigresses were easy. After all, they're a force of nature."


End file.
